Emerging from Embers
by Insert a Catchy Penname Here
Summary: Because she is not the same Katniss as she was before the Reaping, I will no longer be the same Prim. Takes place right after Katniss comes home from her first Hunger Games.


Everyone in District 12 knew things had changed. Families who starved to death suddenly had bread from the Capitol, workers would come and fix up their threadbare homes, and there was even some celebration nights with light wine involved. All of this was possible for the first time in twenty four years because of our two victors: Peeta Mellerk, and my older sister, Katniss. We were all happy and there was finally hope.

But only those who looked even deeper could see just how much things had really changed.

Before these Games, Katniss didn't show a lot of emotion, especially not around other people. I always somehow managed to make her smile and show her more tender side, but after Dad died, she became closed off and reserved. I watched her painfully sink into depression almost as much as we watched our mother become taken from us.

Now it's even worse. She never smiles anymore, and if by some rare chance she does, it's pained. It's like looking into a once clean mirror that's full of cracks and layered with dust, a beautiful think now breaking. She is strong, just like she's always been, but I know she loathes herself for what she did. If I'd gone instead of her and by some miracle survived, I know I would, too.

"Prim, can you help me with this box?" Mom seems more lively than usual; I think it's from relief that Katniss is home, but I also think it's because she's trying to cheer her up.

I nod and walk over, taking the other side of it. Today is the day we move out of our home and into the Victor's village, and I'm pretty excited about it. We'll have new clothes and plenty of food there, and since Haymitch is the only other one who lives there, we'll have total privacy from all of the media, at least for a little while.

The door creaks open and Katniss steps in from her hunting. Her face is unreadable but her eyes show me she's been crying. "Do you need any help with that?"

"No, I think we have it." Mom smiles again, a little bit more forced this time so she seems even more perky. "Why don't you go to our new home and make sure everything is ready?"

"I'll get Haymitch to help us with the beds." She turns for the door again.

"Wait!" I call after her, hesitating when she turns around. "Um...I'll do it, Katniss."

She shakes her head instantly. "You don't need to be around Haymitch."

"You look exhausted, though." Not to mention I know it's hard for her to be around anything that reminds her of the Games; it must be bad enough for her to look at me and know that I was the reason she went in. "Please, Katniss, it'll only take a minute."

"No, Prim." Her voice is firm but I set down my end of the box anyway, dashing out of the door before her.

I don't stop running until I'm in the Victor's Village. It looks lonelier than the last time we came here, with the heavy metal gates that are open only for now and the leaves fluttering quietly in the June heat. I go up to the house I know is Haymitch's, slowly peering inside. I'm instantly hit with a sour smell that burns my throat and makes my eyes water.

"Haymitch?" I call softly, slowly stepping in and trying to avoid all of the broken glass on the floor.

He's leaned back in his chair, looking unconscious. In one hand he's gripping an empty canister, and in the other is a butterknife. By the looks of it, either of those could be used as a weapon, so I approach very slowly. When I touch his hand he jumps, causing the chair to tip all the way back and send him crashing to floor. He lets out a yell and I jump, almost running back to the door.

"What the hell?!" He snaps, sitting up and looking at me with clearly unfocused eyes. "...When the hell did you start wearing two braids?"

"I'm not Katniss." My breath comes out wispy, my heart pounding from the sudden event. "I'm her little sister, Prim."

He seems to lull it over in his mind before laughing loudly. "You're the little girl she volunteered for!"

I flinch some at the reminder. "Yes sir...Our mother wants you to come and help us move our beds into our home."

He sighs loudly but stumbles to his feet. I reach to help him but he shoves me away, causing me to stumble back into the wall. He scowls when I do, as if I just insulted him.

"I knew there was a reason she volunteered for you." He starts for the door in a stumble. "You wouldn't have lasted three seconds."

Now it's my turn to narrow my eyes. That hurts a lot, but the saddest part is that I know it's true. I take a slow, deep breathe and walk over to him, picking up his shoes from the ground.

"Here." I step in front of him briefly. "You need to wear these, the ground is hot."

He grunts but makes no move to do as I say, so I kneel in front of his feet instead, grabbing his ankle and tugging until it mashes down into the shoe. I pull out the top of his it, sliding over to the top of his foot and trying not to gag on the horrible smells. Once I do the same to the other foot I stand up quickly, opening the door for him.

The sun makes us both grimace a little, but when he looks at me, he's smiling weakly. "Thanks, kid."

He resumes stumbling to our home with my leading, but I don't really mind. He and Katniss are alike now, both having to kill people just so they could come back home. Everyone knows his story as well, about how the Capitol killed everyone he loved. I'm terrified that the same could happen to Katniss and that she'll be like him, drinking her days away and refraining from throwing herself off of the roofs on particularly bad days, only to be hauled down and forced inside by the Peacekeepers.

The rest of the afternoon we move all of our belongings into our new home, though that isn't that much. As a result, we're soon unpacked and Mom and I are able to take our first showers. Katniss is already in bed by the time we enter, her eyes far away and plagued with grief. For the first time in a month I'm able to crawl in our old bed with her, though I don't lay down yet.

"Are you okay?" I ask softly, but we both know the answer to that.

She looks at me as if she just now realizes I was there and strains a smile. "Yeah, I'm okay, Little Duck. Are you ready for bed now?"

"I'm not really that tired," I admit while laying down, resting my head on her chest.

For a while we just lay there, listening to Mom's breathing turn slow and peaceful. After a while, she begins to braid my air, though her face remains absent. I allow it with a vague sense of content.

"I never got to say thank you," I finally say. "For..going in there for me."

She looks at me with sad gray eyes that have filled with darker color than rain clouds. "You were worth it."

I go quiet for a moment after that. I believe she deserves so much better; if I'd died, then she'd be able to get over it with time. Her and Mom could have gotten closer, and even I'd be with Daddy again. It would have been so much better that way.

"I'll never be able to repay you," I finally manage.

"You don't have to pay me back." Her tone is empty but sincere. "All I want is for you to be happy."

"We'll never go hungry again because of you." I gently squeeze her hand. "I'm...I'm really proud of you."

Buttercup, who is curled up at my legs, looks up at her and meows softly, as if he's agreeing with me. I smile and stroke his head, looking back my sister. Her eyes are growing distant; I begin to sing for her, just like she for me the morning of the Reaping.

_"Deep in the meadow, Under the willow. A bed of grass, A soft green pillow." _

She fixes on me with tears glazing her eyes and I instantly regret what I've done. It was the last song she sang to Rue, a girl my age that I know she really cared about. Much to my surprise, though, she chimes in the second verse in her voice that's as beautiful as Daddy's.

_"Lay down your head, And close your eyes. And when they open, The sun will rise.."_

After that she falls silent, and by the dimness in her still-open eyes, I know she's fallen asleep. I slowly pass my hand over her face, closing them while I settle in. Her body feels cool despite the warmth around us, and her head sounds like it's beating heavier than normal.

She's not the Katniss she was before the Reaping. She's a Victor and I know she's sick with something; it's not depression, but it's like trauma. I decide that I will no longer be the Prim I was either, that I will become stronger and help my poor older sister through the rough future ahead of us. I'll try to heal her with medicine and love, and I know Mom will help me learn, too.

Eventually, she will emerge from the embers from the Hunger Games. I am not that fearful little girl any more. She gave me shelter and care all that time after Daddy died. Now I will give her back that hope she's implanted in all of District 12.


End file.
